


In Fair New York

by kikitheslayer



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikitheslayer/pseuds/kikitheslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gina hangs out at Jake's after his Bar Mitzvah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Fair New York

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no excuse for this fic existing. I wrote it in like twenty minutes at midnight. (I'm beginning to notice a pattern with the fics I post.) Also, I'm totally assuming that this is what teenagers in the 90s sounded like.

At first, Gina described Jake’s bedroom as “small.” Then she decided that wasn’t right and upped it to “minuscule.” Not that she judged -- she had a single mother, too, and Spice Girls knew that Brooklyn could be expensive. Usually they hung out at his Nana’s place, anyway.

But today, despite hair that was still trailing hairspray and a poofy green dress that was shedding sparkles all over the apartment, Gina found herself cramped into Jake’s tiny abode, surrounded by a mess that would have made a much larger room look cluttered. She glanced around: a pile of candy wrappers and assorted trash, a lava lamp (side note: awesome), some action figures with chipped paint jobs, laundry tossed haphazardly over the floor, that poster he got on that field trip to the NYPD, a picture of his dad on his nightstand, face down. (Jake liked to look at it sometimes. Other times he didn’t. His mom never did.)

She was lounged across the scratchy quilt of his twin bed. She rapped her black painted nails on her arm nervously, thinking of a way to rectify the emergency. (She had been preppy last week. Now was thinking of going grunge.)

Jake himself was still dressed in his suit, and was seated on a pile of laundry that she assumed had a chair underneath it somewhere. He had been crying for twelve minutes, and Gina hadn’t tuned him out _once_. She thought that should show how serious the situation was.

“It’s just not fair,” he continued through his tears. “Like, what even kind of _name_ is Fung? That’s like two steps from fungi. Like, oh that’s hot. And I didn’t even _want_ to invite him. Mom made me because we did that map project together two weeks ago--”

Gina sat up. This had gone on long enough. “Jakey, look at me.”

He complied. He usually did what Gina told him to. He was the best friend she had ever had. 

“Jenny Gildenhorn is an asshole.” (What? She was nearly thirteen. She could swear.) “And like, I know you’re totally star-crossed for her, or whatever, but maybe she’s your Rosaline, and you still need to find your Juliet.”

Jake stopped crying momentarily to look confused. “What’s that from?”

She shrugged. “Romeo and Juliet. Old-ass Shakespeare play.” (She had told Jake she read Shakespeare under penalty of breaking a pinky swear. She didn’t need that fact getting out and hurting her reputation.)

“But Jenny is my Juliet,” he insisted. “And even if she’s not, like, my future wife, or something, so what? She’s the prettiest girl I know right now.” After a moment of her blank stare, he added, “Sorry. Second prettiest.”

She nodded. “Thanks. But maybe you can be your own Juliet. And that’s better anyway cause it means the story doesn’t end with you killing yourself over some dude you've known for six days.”

“No offense, but I don’t think I want to be my own Juliet.”

She shrugged. “Fine, Mr. Hard to Please. So I’ll be your Juliet, and you can be my Romeo. But like, as friends. And neither of us can die.”

He smiled for the first time since they had arrived. “Sounds good.”

She extended her hand. “Pinky swear?”

He nodded solemnly and wrapped his pinky around hers. “Pinky swear.”

They shook once and both started giggling.

“Hey,” said Gina, through her laughs, “I think this means you have to challenge Eddie Fung to a duel. Or something. I don’t know.”

“I’d do that,” he said.

“Kick his ass, Peralta.”

After a moment, he said, “You want to do it for me?”

“Already planning on it.”


End file.
